Coercion
by Fitzdare
Summary: THIS STORY CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE. IF THIS MEANS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT VIEW. Alicia takes a risk to save Cary. Lemond Bishop ups the stakes. (Set after 'The Trial' season six).
1. Chapter 1

Coercion

Alicia crossed the street and approached the Continental parked at the kerbside. Lemond Bishop lowered the passenger side widow. "Good evening Mrs. Florrick," he said. "Please get in."

"You said this was about Cary?"

"Get in and we'll talk." Alicia hesitated. "Do you want to keep Mr. Agos out of prison or not?"

Alicia climbed into the back seat, and the car immediately took off. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"To a meet."

"At eleven o'clock at night Mr. Bishop? Really?"

"I've had a little talk with my man, Dante."

"The witness? The one who incriminated Cary?"

"Maybe he's had a change of heart."

"Is that where we're going? To meet with him?"

"Eventually. First, a bit of business."

"What kind of business?"

"Remember Johnson Cartwright the Third?"

"Yes. You made him an offer and he declined."

"His stable's the number one right now, his horses can't stop winning. They got the best trainers and the best breeding programme."

"So what does this have to do with me Mr. Bishop?"

"I'm going to make Mr. Cartwright another offer, one he can't refuse, and I want you to negotiate the details."

"You know I can't Mr. Bishop. I – we – we don't work for you now."

"So, I've just re-hired you, exclusively for this case. Your firm was acting for me when I made the first approach. So, officially you're just tying up the loose ends. Think of it as a matter unresolved."

"And if I refuse?"

"Please Mrs. Florrick. You want Cary to go back to prison?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be your saintly self; sexy lawyer, wife of the Governor, future State's Attorney, a respectable figure of the establishment. Mr. Cartwright has got it into his head that yours truly is nothing but some black gangster wannabe. He's not happy about handing over his life's work to a notorious drug dealer. That's where you come in Mrs. Florrick. You can tell Cartwright all about my legitimate enterprises and all about the generous donations we make to the citizens of Chicago less fortunate than ourselves. And then, once you've charmed his pants off, he'll sign all of his holdings over to me."

"Just like that."

"That's the plan."

"What about Cartwright? I understood he'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's."

"Heresay. He was fine last time I spoke to him."

"Promise me you'll get your boy Dante to make a statement putting Cary in the clear."

"You have my word."

The house on the edge of town was a large two-storied residence surrounded by woodlands. Inside, the party sat around a large oval table, Alicia, Bishop, Bishop's two bodyguards, Johnson Cartwright the Third, and Deke Sykes, Cartwright's attorney.

"So, you're the wife of the governor?" asked Cartwright.

"Alicia Florrick. We have met before Mr. Cartwright, don't you remember?"

Cartwright looked puzzled and turned to his attorney.

"Of course Mr. Cartwright remembers you Mrs. Florrick," said Sykes.

Alicia thought Cartwright looked much older than the last time she'd seen him, in fact he didn't look well at all. "Do you Mr. Cartwright?" said Alicia. "Do you remember me?"

"Oh yes," Cartwright said, "of course. You were wearing that short skirt. I could see the colour of your knickers."

"Mr. Bishop," said Alicia, getting to her feet. "We need to talk."

Bishop was all smiles. "Excuse us for a moment gentlemen," he said.

Bishop joined Alicia in the kitchen at the back of the house. "What is going on here?" she demanded.

"It's just like I said," Bishop replied. "Business."

"Mr. Cartwright is clearly unwell. He looks as if he's drugged up to the eyeballs. He's in no fit state to conduct his affairs."

"That's why Sykes is here, he has power of attorney."

"That isn't how it works. Nothing we sign today will be worth the paper it's written on. It's coercion Mr. Bishop and it's unlawful."

"Why don't we worry about that after the fact?"

"Mr. Bishop, my advice is to wait. Cartwright's family will no doubt assume control of his assets at the proper time. Make your offer to them."

"Mrs. Florrick, you should know me by now. I don't do waiting."

"Mr. Cartwright has agreed to your offer," said Sykes when Alicia and Bishop returned to the table.

"Agreed?" said Cartwright. "What have I agreed to?"

"I suggest we reconvene this meeting," said Alicia. "How about tomorrow morning in my office?"

"Are you the Governor's wife?" asked Cartwright.

"Here," said Sykes, putting the paperwork in front of the old man. "Sign at the bottom of the page."

"Mr. Sykes," said Alicia, "you are out of order. I think it's time you took your client home."

"Wait just a minute," Bishop insisted, glaring at Alicia. "Let's just sign the deal."

"Okay! Okay!" Cartwright said. "Let's do it!" The old man pulled out a revolver from the back of his pants, pointed it at the head of his attorney, and squeezed the trigger. The shot was followed by a steady trail of blood dribbling out from the cavity in the dead man's temple.

Bishop's men jumped to their feet and pulled out their guns. "Wait!" Bishop cried. "Mr. Cartwright," he said calmly. "Put down the gun."

Cartwright turned the weapon on Alicia. "Are you or are you not the Governor's wife?" he demanded. Bishop threw himself over the table and grabbed hold of the old man's arm. When the gun went off for a second time, Cartwright took the bullet. Blood spurted out from the fatal wound inflicted to his throat.

"Fucking shit!" Bishop exclaimed. "Mrs. Florrick? Alicia? Are you hurt?"

Alicia stared wide-eyed at the two dead men slumped at the table in front of her. The front of her dress was spattered with blood. "I'm fine," she said dreamily.

Bishop turned to his stunned bodyguards. "Clean up this mess," he ordered. "Mrs. Florrick, come with me."

Alicia found herself being escorted upstairs. Bishop showed her into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed.

"Give me your jacket," he said, "and take off your dress."

Alicia was in shock, but she was quickly recovering her senses. "We must call Chicago PD," she said, removing her phone from her jacket pocket.

Bishop snatched the device from her hand and removed the SIM card. "No police," he said.

"We've just witnessed a murder and – "

"And what?"

"It was an accident, the gun went off in the struggle and besides, you were protecting me."

"Yeah right, and that's just how the DA will see it. I think I'll take my chances."

"So what do you propose we do?"

"Nothing. I'll handle it. Here," he said, opening the door of the closet and tossing Alicia a bathrobe. "Take off your dress and put this on."

"No. I'm going to walk out of this house," she declared, "and I'm going home. I was never here Mr. Bishop, okay?"

Alicia marched towards the door, but Bishop caught up with her and stood between her and the exit. "Sorry Mrs. Florrick," he said, towering over her, "but you're staying right here. Now, are you going to give me that dress or shall I rip it off you?"

Alicia gave him her jacket and then retired to the _ensuite_, where she unzipped her dress and put on the robe. Bishop collected the bloodied garment. "You might want to take a shower," he said, making for the door.

Once Bishop had departed, Alicia tried the door. It was locked.

Bishop returned an hour later with a bottle of red wine. "Thought you might like a drink," he said.

Alicia stood to one side of the huge bed, her hands in the pockets of the bathrobe. "How long do you intend to keep me here?" she asked.

Bishop poured two glasses of wine. "Not long," he said. "Once we've cleaned up your dress you can be on your way, providing of course we reach an understanding."

"I won't say a word," she said. "I was never here."

"Excellent," he said, passing her a glass. "So, let's drink to that shall we?"

Alicia took the glass and quaffed a mouthful of the wine. "What are you going to do with the bodies?" she asked.

"Please Mrs. Florrick, don't concern yourself. Everything is in hand." Bishop lowered himself into an armchair and ran his eyes over her. "You know what," he said, "this is going to put our relationship on an entirely new level. I think we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, especially when you get the DA's job."

With only her bra and panties between the robe and her naked body, Alicia felt vulnerable in a way she never had before, and the strength of Bishop's concentrated stare exacerbated her unease. "We don't have – a relationship Mr. Bishop," she said.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. When your investigator Miss Sharma threatened my family she crossed the line. She made it personal Mrs. Florrick. You want personal, that's fine by me." Bishop drained his glass and got to his feet. He took off his jacket and his tie, and moved intently towards her. He placed his hands on her hips and whispered in her ear: "You've never had a black man before, have you?"

Alicia pulled away. "Mr. Bishop, this isn't necessary," she said. "Your secrets are safe with me. Please, let me go."

Bishop grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, pressing his body up against her. His lips kissed her neck and his hands slid under the hem of her robe and stroked her thighs. "Relax," he said.

She felt her heart racing. She pushed her hands firmly against his shoulders. "No!" she cried, but his kisses kept coming, his lips now searching for her mouth. She tossed her head away from him but she couldn't escape. He untied her robe and locked his arms around her. "No, please," she murmured. One of his hands slipped inside her panties. She closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of his touch, her breaths now coming in shallow bursts. She felt her resistance dissolve, overcome by the power of his ardor and the sudden awareness of her own desire. His lips sought her once more and this time she met them, their tongues seeking each other out. Deftly, he unclipped her bra and threw her down onto the bed.

"I promise you one thing Mrs. Florrick," he said, loosening the belt on his pants. "There aint no going back after this."


	2. Chapter 2

2

"Patience," said Kalinda. "They'll be here." She'd booked them in to a quiet motel downtown, but Dante was getting nervous.

"Every minute I stay here with you brings me closer to the devil," he said.

Kalinda's phone throbbed in her jacket pocket. It was Diane: "Have you seen Alicia? Her daughter called me. She said she expected her home hours ago, and she's not answering her phone."

"What time did she leave work?"

"She was still there when I left and that was after nine."

"So is she still there?"

"No, I checked with the security patrol. Her car's still there, but there's no sign of her. I'm worried Kalinda, this isn't like her."

"Okay, I'm on it." Kalinda made the calls, everyone except the family and Eli. She tried Finn Polmar on the off chance, but no luck. So where the hell is she?

Dante inched back the curtain and squinted out into the night. "Stay away from the window," Kalinda warned him. "Do you want to end up like Lenard and Wagner?"

Another call came through. A familiar voice said: "Kalinda?"

Kalinda felt her blood fizz. "Yes," she said.

"I know what game you're playing." Kalinda opened her mouth but there were no words. "Your friend is here, with me," said the voice.

"Alicia?"

"Call them off if you want to see her again." The voice hung up.

"What's going on?" Dante demanded.

Kalinda made the call. "It's off," she said when Lana answered.

"What do you mean, off?"

"I mean it's off. He's changed his mind."

"Jesus Christ Kalinda!"

"What are you doing?" said Dante.

"Is he still there?" Lana asked.

"No. I don't know where he is. He's running."

Dante rushed at her. "Gimme that!" he snarled, reaching for the phone.

Kalinda hung up and pulled out her pistol. "Sit," she commanded.

"You bitch," he said. "I should never have trusted you."

"Calm down. Do you want to live?"

"He's onto to us isn't he?"

"Yes."

"I'm a dead man," he said.

"Not yet. We have to get out of here. I'll get the car. Stay here. Okay?"

"Leave me the gun at least."

"No. I'll come back for you. Sit tight."

Alicia sat up in the bed covering her nakedness with a sheet. "What's going on?" she said. "Who were you calling?"

Bishop smiled. "That was your treacherous friend Kalinda," he said. "Did you know she was selling me out to the FBI?"

"No," Alicia protested. "She wouldn't."

"Wouldn't she?" Bishop picked up the house phone. "Send up some food and a bottle of Charlie. Yeah, whatever. Make it half an hour all right? You know what I think?" he said, hanging up the phone and perching his naked body on the bed beside her. "I think you'd do just about anything to save your friend Cary." Bishop grasped the bottom of the bed sheet with one hand and began pulling it gently towards the end of the bed. Alicia gripped the top of the sheet and held on to it as tightly as she could. Bishop grinned, slid his body under the sheet, and cozied up against her. "Could be a long night," he said. "May as well make the most of it."

Kalinda made her way around to the back of the building, keeping close to the walls and the darkness of the shadows. She stopped at the corner, partially concealed by the dumpster in front of her and stared out into the night. The car was across the other side of the street. She could see it clearly beneath the streetlight. How many would there be? One or two? Or maybe more. She scanned the area with a studied eye. Something was glinting in the shop doorway twenty yards to the left of the car. She pulled back the slide of her pistol, took a deep breath, and marched purposefully out into the open. A shadowy figure emerged from the doorway. She fired: once, twice, three times, unerringly hitting the target. A shot rang out to her right. She turned, both hands steady, arms outstretched and squeezed the trigger. The gunman dropped his weapon and fell, stricken by the multiple shots to his upper body. Two down. She made her way cautiously to the car and climbed inside. It wasn't until she turned the key that she felt the pain, and noticed the blood dripping off the end of her fingertips.

Lana Delaney stared down at the body in the street. "Looks like the same weapon," said the ME. "I'd say one shooter did for both of them."

"The motel's clear," said Agent Harris, joining then at the scene.

"What about our boy?" Lana asked him.

"No sign. The manager said she heard a disturbance, saw a car take off in a hurry and that's it."

"That's it? What about the car?"

"A dark coloured coupe. She says it was dark and she didn't have her glasses."

"Terrific. And Miss Sharma?"

Harris shrugged. "Nothing."

Lana looked up as a black limousine pulled up at the kerb and a tall figure came striding towards them. "Mr. Governor," she said. "What are –?"

Peter Florrick took her by the arm and led her away out of earshot. "Is this to do with Lemond Bishop?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry Governor I –"

"I'm going to ask you once more," Peter said, his words carrying an unmistakeable menace. "Is this to do with Lemond Bishop?"

"Yes, maybe."

"Which is it?"

"The dead men are Bishop's crew, or at least we think they are."

"You think?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where Bishop is right now?"

"No. Why?"

"Because I think he's kidnapped my wife."

"What?"

"This is strictly between us, and I mean exclusively. She's missing. Chicago PD talked to a guy in the bar across the street from where she works. He said he saw my wife get into a black SUV around ten pm. It's Bishop's trademark car isn't it?"

"Lots of people drive black SUV's Governor."

Peter looked downcast. "I know," he said.

"Is your wife – involved with Bishop?" Lana asked him.

"Of course not," Peter snapped.

"He is a former client of hers though isn't he?"

"I want you to keep me informed," he said, ignoring her question. "and I mean updates every hour on the hour. I want you to find Bishop and I want you to liase with the local PD. And don't think of jerking me around, I've been on to Washington. Understand?"

"Sure."

"Find my wife agent Delaney."

Bishop picked up the ringing phone from the bedside table. "Is it done?" he said. "Slow down. What? So where the hell is she? Listen to me. You will find her and finish the job. Do you understand me? Good."

"Mr. Bishop," said Alicia, getting up and putting on the bathrobe. "You have to let me go. They'll be looking for me, my family, the police probably. What good does it do you to keep me here? Please, let me go."

"Not just yet Mrs. Florrick. Not until it's over."

"I think I'll take that shower then," she said, marching off to the bathroom.

"You do that Mrs. Florrick. You do that."


End file.
